


Wake Up

by Dissipating_Mango



Series: zadr ficlets [7]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Dark, Guilt, M/M, POV Second Person, Past Rape/Non-con, Revenge, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23160865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dissipating_Mango/pseuds/Dissipating_Mango
Summary: "Yes, that's what you were trying to do, wasn't it?"
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Series: zadr ficlets [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543489
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	Wake Up

"Your incessant cries are growing repetitive. I'm getting bored of this." 

Human bones were ridiculously fragile. Disgusting in the way they snapped and fractured and crumbled. Atrocious, no regenerative processes. 

"F-fuck you..." 

"Yes, that's what you were trying to do, wasn't it?" 

His face looks better this way. Oversized head dripping blood, too much blood. Scarlet red. Ugly. You hate the color. Black frames hold no lenses, cracked, much like the cage housing his many inefficient organs; not entirely dissimilar to the ones he's always wanted to see. Amber eyes almost as red as yours now. Crybaby. 

You sneer. " _Fuck_ me?" 

He can do nothing but cough up blood. 

"Disgusting meat creature, your flesh stinks like scrap metal." 

His fingers fish and wallow in the rough folds of your uniform, abdicating when harsh metal legs pop in front of his eyes. They don't seem to terrify him like they should. They look far more blunt than truth would prove. 

"I wasn't..." He wheezes. "I wasn't trying to"

" _Lies_."

Your boot compresses the middle of his chest. Under your body weight he still breathes, sickly and uneven, but breathing nonetheless.

"I'll admit your technique was clever. Hardly need to restrain someone when they're _unconscious_." 

He whimpers. Pitiful. 

"Were you excited when your filthy fingers desecrated my vent?" 

"It wasn't like that, I wasn't"

Squish. How many ribs did you break? You hope it's all of them. Gritted teeth. 

"Were you _excited_ Dib? Did it feel _good?_ " 

He's crying again. He doesn't deserve to cry. 

"Did it feel _good_ when you mounted me? Like a rutting animal? When you _claimed_ me with your repulsive, burning, bodily fluids?" 

"I-I didn't _claim_ "

"That's what you called it."

Break him. Hurt him. You're repulsed by his agony and yet you can't get enough. He underestimates how strong you are, surprised when it only takes a single pull of his arm.

Pop.

The satisfaction of the pain under your hands is indescribable, almost gross in the way the joint comes undone so easily. He gags and sputters. Delightful noises, the only ones he's suited to make. Dislocated, his arm smacks against the ground, limp.

Drool seeps out of his mouth cherry colored. His face is red where blue and purple will be tomorrow.

Curled on his side like a wounded stray, he weeps pathetically. 

"Stop! Stop stop! Please stop please!" 

He's sobbing, absolutely wrecked. Kick him again. His humiliation savored like a delicacy.

"PLEASE! PLEASE STOP!" 

"So you _do_ know what that word means!"

It's easy to tower over him when he's lying on the ground, stepped on like the feeble worm he is. 

Wet eyes stare intense in your direction. It would be easy to gouge them out, claws squishing under gelatinous organs. Slice through his corneas and scrape away the part that lets him look at you. Thumb pressed in the knuckle of his left eye, you murmur, exacting more and more pressure with every syllable. Words a susurrus. 

"Zim could kill you..." 

**___**

  
You wake with a harsh gasp, sweat soaked shirt clinging to your skin like glue. Heart vibrating, you take shallow breaths that don't deliver nearly enough oxygen. Remind yourself who you are. 

You are Dib. You are alive. You are safe at home in your bed.

Deep breaths. You're alright.

It wasn't real. Gently tap each limb, sigh at every intact bone. Smooth skin save for old scars, nothing new. You saw Zim yesterday. He's still none the wiser. He's _never_ going to know. 

Deep breaths. You're okay. 

How hard it is, bearing such a burden; how difficult, keeping secrets. Lay back down, let the covers envelope you in darkness you've grown uneasily accustomed to. 

You hate these dreams. 


End file.
